


These Boots Were Made for Pegging

by southerndrawlinmypants



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Pegging, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, You know what you're getting into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southerndrawlinmypants/pseuds/southerndrawlinmypants
Summary: Aziraphale stomped indignantly.“You’ve been doing this on purpose!”Crowley didn’t know whether to be annoyed that Aziraphale hadn’t realised or smug at how flustered he had gotten.“I haven’t heard any complaints, angel.”“That’s because-…uh, well…well it is a good look on you. Anyone could see that.”Crowley turned himself, and looked Aziraphale up and down.“Do you? Like it I mean?”Aziraphale gulped, his breath shaky.“Yes. Very much so.”





	These Boots Were Made for Pegging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).



> Thank you to asparklethatisblue for wishing someone would write this fic and then I took it upon myself to do so. I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you do to. Don't judge me. If you clicked this then you know what you're semi in for.

Crowley had enjoyed being Warlock’s nanny, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. There was something to be said about being trusted to look after an ‘as far as the parent’s knew a perfectly normal vulnerable human child’. Out of the sight of parents, servants, and other annoying humans he could pretty much do what he wanted with little effort. At 4, Warlock’s favourite activities were sleeping, running around in circles knocking expensive items off of counters, followed by more sleeping. Crowley could appreciate that. At this point Crowley wished he could also take a big long nap followed by some minor destruction. Just enough to be therapeutic. 

Carefully Crowley opened the nursery door to check on the sleeping Prince of Darkness. His dark hair stuck up at every angle on the pillow – Nanny Crowley encouraged young Warlock to smack the hairbrush out of his mother’s hand – and his chubby little arms were wrapped tightly around the neck of a faded dinosaur teddy. Crowley nodded in approval and closed the door. It had just gone 1 O’clock. He had at least 3 hours until he had to do anything nanny related. With the house and grounds being empty of anyone apart from the two of them and Aziraphale puttering around in the garden, Crowley was free to do as he pleased. Today, that would consist of taking one of the dusty bottles of red from the kitchen and drinking on the patio. Perhaps with a plate of olives, if he was feeling peckish.

Crowley made his way to the kitchen. He was not at all surprised to find Aziraphale there in the middle of assembling a generous snack plate for himself. Crowley coughed loudly, startling him, and leaned against the door frame. He raised a judgemental eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s the gardener. May I ask why you are in the household without permission?”

Aziraphale gave him a pleading expression, a blush rising on his cheeks. 

“Oh come on dear boy.” Aziraphale let go of the butter knife, letting thick strawberry jam slide onto the counter. “You know it’s only us here, and little Warlock is always asleep at this time. They won’t miss one little sandwich.”

Crowley stepped forward with pursed lips, circling the angel. He had found it much easier to intimidate individuals in this form. He had found himself using it outside of work hours quite often to spice things up a bit in the old demon department. Aziraphale had, to his surprise, also fallen into this category. 

“Well then, would you at least change? I can’t stand to look at you like this you look even more ridiculous than usual.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and used a miracle to put himself back to his usual form. With a sigh of relief, Crowley began to search the pantry for a good bottle, turning his back to Aziraphale to inspect the selection. While he was rummaging, a thought occurred to him.

“I should probably change back too shouldn’t I? Only fair.”

“No! No. It’s fine. If you’re uh, comfortable that is. It’s ah. A good look on you.”

The rapid response from his question caused Crowley to freeze, intrigued. He turned to face him. Aziraphale was making a point to not look Crowley in the eyes, instead pretending to consider which of the selection of fruits in the bowl he was going to have with the rest of his lunch.

“Aziraphale, I know you’re going to have one of each.”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale ignored him as his hand flickered between the pears or the nectarines. “Oh. Perhaps. You’re right.”

He picked up both of them and haphazardly put them on his plate.

“Well! I’m off. Jolly speaking to you.”

Aziraphale headed towards the door leading to the garden, but Crowley caught him by the shoulder and twirled him around.

“Now hold on! What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

Sometimes Crowley found his indignant pretend ignorance endearing. This was not one of those times.

“Oh come off it! When I asked if you wanted me to change and you said no. Very quickly, I might add. Got something to tell nanny Crowley?”

Crowley put his hands on his hips, straightening his spine in a matronly manner. Aziraphale’s face flushed, his eyes briefly flickering to the chest and hips of Crowley’s fitted black gown. 

“I-“

Teasingly Crowley stepped forward, his heeled boots clicking sharply on the linoleum floor. Crowley took of his glasses to stare down at his friend, twirling them between his painted fingers.

“Well? Spit it out.”

“I…“ Aziraphale sputtered until it all got a bit too much. He threw his plate next to the sink and stormed out, the frame of the door rattling on the hinges. 

Crowley felt guilty for a moment, but that feeling left quickly to make room for curiosity. He caught his reflection in one of the small mirrors hanging beside the pantry. He ran a hand through the curls at the end of his hair. He suppose he did strike a handsome figure in this form. He smirked to himself. Well. This job might as well come with a bit of fun.

 

3 MONTHS LATER

 

Aziraphale tucked into his book like it was a fine dining experience. Working as a gardener on Warlock and family’s estate had been taking up an awful lot more time than he had originally thought, leaving his books to be neglected and forgotten for days at a time. He stroked the yellowed page of his latest purchase, a rare first edition German translation of Jane Austin’s Persuasions. With the shop closed and a mug of steaming cocoa beside him, Aziraphale felt more relaxed than he had in months.

The bell to the bookshop door jingled. Aziraphale stood up in a hurry, ready to chastise the rude and ignorant human who had failed to read his opening hours on the front door correctly.

“Can’t you read the sign? We’re closed – “

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks when he noticed who had come in. Crowley, still dressed in his nanny persona, was inspecting the poetry collection to the far right of the shopfront. Crowley turned when he noticed Aziraphale had brought himself out of his back office.

“Ah, just the angel I’ve been looking for.”

Aziraphale flustered and shook his head.

“What are you doing here Crowley? We’re not supposed to meet for dinner until 8 O’clock.”

He pointed his finger to a battered old cuckoo clock in the corner which clearly read that it had just gone past 6. Crowley waved a dismissive hand and strolled over to him. Aziraphale noted, to his dismay, that despite it being outside of work hours, Crowley held firm to the nanny persona he had grown quite accustomed to. He walked with an air of grace and dignity that made is breath hitch, and his face remained in a calm yet disproving expression, ready to chastise or scold anyone in his path. 

“Are you going to get changed for dinner?” Asked Aziraphale, wringing his hands. 

Crowley seemed to consider this. He took a seat on Aziraphale’s desk.

“No. I don’t think I will.”

Crowley crossed his legs over the knee, revealing a hint of stocking underneath. Aziraphale allowed his eyes to linger for a moment too long.

“…why are you here so early, Crowley?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were still wandering up to the edge of Crowley’s skirt when he spoke.

“Oh, I think you know why.”

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses and scoffed.

“Oh come on! Surely you saw this coming. I’ve been dropping hints for months and you’re not exactly subtle.”

“Subtle about…?”

Aziraphale’s mind flashed to that moment months ago in the kitchen where he had bumbled and stormed off. Then again days later when Crowley had asked him again about it in the garden and he’d accidentally knocked down a tree. Then again, 6 weeks later, when Crowley had asked the gardener to tie the shoelaces on their boots. Crowley had made a point of lifting his skirt a little bit too high so he could get a good look, which made it even harder to tie the laces. He’d been at it for a good few minutes before he’d gotten it right.

Aziraphale stomped indignantly. 

“You’ve been doing this on purpose!”

Crowley didn’t know whether to be annoyed that Aziraphale hadn’t realised or smug at how flustered he had gotten.

“I haven’t heard any complaints, angel.”

“That’s because-…uh, well…well it is a good look on you. Anyone could see that.”

Crowley turned himself, and looked Aziraphale up and down.

“Do you? Like it I mean?”

Aziraphale gulped, his breath shaky.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Crowley stood up, slowly sauntering towards him. He noted how Aziraphale’s concentration never wavered from his form. His boots made him tower over the angel, something Aziraphale seemed to enjoy by the way his cheeks flushed as he looked up at him. Crowley straightened himself and clasped his hands behind his back.

“May I ask why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You have always suited the darker side of the colour spectrum, and my dear you look so authoritative you carry yourself so well in this form. You’re quite graceful and lovely if a bit…”

Crowley stepped close enough to feel Aziraphale’s hot breath on his neck.

“…domineering.”

Aziraphale’s breath shook as Crowley placed a delicate hand under his chin, forcing him to look up.

“In a good way?” Crowley asked, teasingly.

Aziraphale was breathing fast now, his eyes flickering between Crowley’s glasses and rich red painted lips.

“In a very good way, my dear.”

Crowley leaned down and smashed their lips together, grinding forward as Aziraphale responded with vigour. He snaked his tongue between the angel’s lips, revelling in the wet warmth of his mouth. He had expected the angel to deny everything and to continue to torture him with subtle and not so subtle flirts for the next few years at least, so this was a welcome and delightful surprise. As was Aziraphale’s unguarded enthusiasm about the situation. As Crowley was unbuttoning the angel’s waistcoat, he could feel Aziraphale’s hands grasping to get under the many layers of his skirt. His hands eventually found bare skin as Crowley began to kiss his neck, leaving a wet trail, dragging his teeth gently over the angel’s soft skin. The feel of Aziraphale’s soft hand on his thigh was exhilarating. The hand tugged at the front of his undergarments to get inside. Crowley buckled against Aziraphale as two fingers entered him. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but very pleasant. Aziraphale caught the uncertainty on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear I’ve overstepped myself. Is this just to complete the persona? Would you like me to stop? Is it unpleasant?”

Aziraphale began to pull away, but Crowley caught his hand to push him even deeper inside. 

“No.” Crowley rasped. “It’s not what I planned...but surprisingly enjoyable.”

“Ah. Good then…”

Aziraphale continued his administrations as Crowley kissed and nipped at his lips, neck, anything he could get his teeth on. The feeling was completely different from anything he had experienced before. Sure, he had occasionally slept with a human or two over the centuries, and he was no stranger to masturbation, but he hadn’t considered how different internal genitalia would feel in a sexual situation. He’d imagined, alone in his apartment, this seduction a million times. In all of them, Crowley had imagined himself bending a flustered and aroused Aziraphale over the dusty desk in his bookshop, and fucking him till his moans shook the shelves. Things rarely went exactly to plan.

Aziraphale’s hand moved to a sweet spot, increasing pleasure.

“Ah…”

“Oh Crowley, you look simply wonderful like this.”

Crowley wanted to say something, but the pressure building in his groin was too much. He could only stifle out vague noises of pleasure, his breath growing shallower and shallower. Crowley burrowed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder as his orgasm began to build. The burst of pleasure shook him, as did the sensitivity he felt afterwards as Aziraphale continued to stroke.

“Ah, Aziraphale you can stop now.”

Aziraphale shook himself out of a dazed state. Crowley noted that his lips were slightly red. Some of his own lipstick had transferred to him, some on his lips and some ghosted over his cheek.

“You’ve got some…?” Crowley pointed to Aziraphale’s face.

Confused, Aziraphale withdrew his hand from Crowley’s groin in an effort to wipe whatever he had on his face off, which only added a gleam of wet to his cheek.

“Did I get it dear?”

“Uh. Yes.” 

Crowley looked down and noticed Aziraphale’s neglected cock straining against his trousers. He placed a hand over it and squeezed. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

“So.” Said Aziraphale through a ragged breath. “If that’s not what you had planned, what was?”

Crowley smirked and leaned in close, his lips next to Aziraphale’s ear. 

“I thought, if you were up to it mind you, nanny Crowley could bend you over that desk and defile you.”

Aziraphale’s heart thrummed in anticipation.

“How?”

There was a shift in the air as a miracle was performed, and Aziraphale felt an answering hardness against his own through the skirt of Crowley’s dress. Aziraphale traced his hand over and felt straps at the side, and a long solid length attached.

“This is what I had planned.”

Crowley pushed their groins together, moving much more rapidly than before. Aziraphale gripped him tight, hands moving quickly to wherever he could get them. Without a word Crowley stripped Aziraphale of his shirt and waistcoat to expose his bare chest and soft belly. He slowly stroked his fingers down his softness as he edged him closer to the desk. Out of politeness, he miracled Aziraphale’s books and papers to move to neat pile in the corner. Aziraphale’s eyes softened in their lust to appreciation and love at the gesture.

“Thank you dear boy that was very thoughtful.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Shut it. You’d have given me hell if I’d ruined anything. Purely saving my own skin.”

“You’re also a very generous lover.”

If you don’t stop that then I’m not going to fuck you and I’ll just walk out.”

Aziraphale flushed deep red at the coarseness of his words, causing Crowley to feel a jolt of pleasure at the sight. He leaned over and placed a deep wet kiss to the angel’s lips before tugging down his trousers to his knees. Instinctively Aziraphale turned himself, placing his elbows on the desk and bending over. Crowley admired his plump buttocks, placing a testing smack to the left one. He heard a small yelp. He slapped more forcefully and heard the noise again.

“Crowley…”

Another firm slap left a lingering red hand print.

“Yes? Angel?”

“Are you…?”

“Am I what?”

A slap echoed through the bookshop. Aziraphale pressed his erection against the desk, desperate.

“Are you…will you? Fuck me?”

Crowley smiled.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Crowley lined himself up behind Aziraphale, making sure his makeshift cock was slick. Slowly he pressed himself inside, each of his hands gripping the fat of the angel’s waist to keep steady. When he was fully in, he withdrew and slowly pushed himself in a second time. He could feel Aziraphale shaking beneath him. Crowley rocked himself forward at a rhythmic pace, occasionally stopping to push his skirt out of the way. When he picked up pace and began to thrust harder, Aziraphale’s moans began to grow louder as he struggled to contain strangled noises of pleasure.

“Oh Go- oh Crowley this is fantastic.”

Crowley blushed at the compliment and thrust harder, the desk squeaking and shifting forward.

“You’re wonderful and so good my dear…”

Crowley ran his hands over Aziraphale’s now sweaty back, tingling at the sight of Aziraphale’s face scrunched in pleasure. He placed his left hand firmly on Aziraphale’s hip, and wrapped the other around his cock and began to stroke. The strangled scream that escaped him was very unholy, thought Crowley. Never mind the shop being closed the surrounding area should be closed to spare the angel any future embarrassment. When Aziraphale let out a particularly high pitched whine, Crowley hammered into that spot and increased the speed of his hand. Crowley gazed lovingly at the sweat glistening on his back and lovely blonde curls as the angel came hard onto his hand, his body shaking beneath him. The air was still as they regained composure, Aziraphale’s eyes remained closed as he pressed his forehead into a cold spot of the desk.

“Oh,” Aziraphale struggled for breath. “Oh I’m far too tired for dinner at the moment. You’ve tuckered me out dear boy.”

Crowley smirked in self-satisfaction. Pleased with how the evening had went, he miracled himself back into his usual form. While he did love his work attire, it was good to get back to basics. He looked down to the still bent over Aziraphale.

“Need help?”

Aziraphale reached out an arm and allowed Crowley to pull him back up to his feet and steady himself as he pulled his trousers back up. He buttoned up his shirt but left the waistcoat sitting on the chair.

“We can always go a bit later.” Suggested Crowley. “I’m sure a table will become available.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes, yes. You’re quite right. I think I could use a little downtime before going out. Would you like to come upstairs?”

Crowley nodded at the suggestion and followed him up the stairs.

“I’ll put the kettle on angel, you go sit down.”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise.

“Oh, really? That’s awfully kind.”

“Yeah well…don’t get used to it.”

When they got to the top of the stairs Crowley put a cautious hand on Aziraphale’s waist and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. He quickly walked to the kitchen to get mugs from the cupboard for their tea. Despite his anxiety at the pure loving glances Aziraphale shot him from the dining table, Crowley felt himself smile.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes?”

Crowley fumbled.

“Nothing. How many sugars do you take?”

“Two, thank you.”

As Crowley busied himself with the kettle, Aziraphale’s heart fluttered with understanding, and the thrill of being loved.


End file.
